Total Pageviews

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

“The One That Ran Away” (Part Five)

Miss-Adventures: AHaplessHelplessHopeless
DaterAnd so we
come to the conclusion of “The One That GotRan Away”.Miss-Adventures reveals her mistakes, her needy vulnerability and her
fractured heart.I do so reluctantly, of
course, because it’s difficult enough admitting my own mistakes, my character flaws
and my vulnerability to myself (I’m a terminal perfectionist) but even more difficult
in such a public forum.But to gloss
over it, deny my foibles to you all and present only a façade of who I really
am would be dishonest.I’m in this for
real catharsis.I’m not perfect (though
I always strive to be, to my own
detriment), I’m not always strong (though I do my best to appear so) and I’m
not always so full of wisdom (though I have my occasional moments of wisdom but
mostly moments of wise-ass).

After my
break-up phone call with The One That GotRan Away, I reflected, thought about,
obsessed and processed everything she said.
I played the entire conversation over and over in my head on a
continuous loop (as someone very dear to me dubbed so appropriately, as “Snakes in the Brain” [thank you, “Helen
of Troy”, for that ever-so-perfectly descriptive phrase]). As per my usual, after processing the
conversation, I had more I needed to say.

I always
do that – I never get out everything I need to say all at once. I’m not one who’s quick to react (which is
both a blessing and a curse). I process,
reflect, mull over the minutiae, analyze, shake up the contents of every
moment: side to side, top to bottom and then shake the entire contents out of
the box only to carefully put them back in the box one item at a time, and then
slowly, eventually, finally respond later.

So I did
what I do best: I wrote. I wrote to her
and I explained everything that I had failed to explain while we dated and that
I failed to explain when she broke up with me over the phone just hours before.

I told
her that while I loved my ex wife and always would, it was a platonic and
familial love. I explained that while
our break-up seemed from the outside perspective so fresh and recent, we had
spent months breaking up before we officially ended our marriage and that, as
hard as it was to admit that the marriage was over, that I had failed, and that
it was time to move on, it was the best decision for both of us because we had
just simply fallen out of love and were making each other unhappy.

I told
her that the “look on my face” that she saw at my house was one of panic. Panic that it was too soon for an ex wife
introduction, panic that I would no longer be able to protect our fledgling
romance, panic that my ex wife would say something to embarrass me, and panic
that she would bolt if my reality slapped her in the face.

I reminded
her that if she changed her mind about us, that I would never make her regret
it but if she didn’t, then I would pick my heart up off the floor, wish her
well and not beg her to stay.

No
reply. Not that I asked for one, mind
you, but there was no acknowledgement whatsoever of the heart and soul I poured
into my email. No “thanks but no thanks”
reply. Nothing. Just radio silence.

The next
day, she removed me from her Facebook friends list. Now, I don’t usually put a lot of stock into
the “friends” list. I periodically go
through a purge of “friends” when I fail to see a real-life friendship
continuing. But her unfriending me from
Facebook actually stung like a motherfucker.
It was a clear sign – we’re not
friends, we’re not anything to each other any longer. Ouch!

I let it
go. I would be fine. C’est la vie.
(Okay, maybe not.)

A few
days later, the anniversary of her mother’s death had arrived. I had known that she was struggling with the
upcoming anniversary. I’m a lucky girl,
both of my parents are still with me. I
sometimes think about what will happen if I lose one or both of my parents – I
can’t help it, they both have their share of health concerns that worry
me. So naturally, my heart broke a
little for The One That GotRan Away as she faced the two-year
anniversary of her mother’s passing. I
decided to send her an email with the caveat that there was no pressureandno need to reply. I just simply wanted to let her know that I
was thinking about her during this time and that no matter what, I still cared
and was wishing her well while she coped with the emotional toll this time of
year took on her. I didn’t hear back
from her, and honest to god, I was totally okay with that. I only wanted to express sympathy and support
(should she need or want it). I never had
expectations or hopes that she would come running back into my arms. I won’t lie, though: had she come running
back into my arms, I would have opened them wide and welcomed her back.

It had
been less than a week since she ended things with me and I still had visions of
John Cusack holding a boom box high over his head in attempt to win back his
ladylove. I wouldn’t have done it, of
course, but I certainly had fantasies of doing so. And I carried those thoughts with me well
into the following weekend. (I clearly
have seen one too many romantic dramas.
No wonder I’m so hopeless!)

Out on a
Saturday night with friends and about ten days after the break-up, I had a
couple of Goose & Tonics in me (which is enough to severely impair my
judgment) and was feeling sad and lonely at a club full of hot dancing lesbians
… What did I do?What any lonely, desperate
and half-drunk girl would do: I drunk texted The One That GotRan Away.

Oh good lord, no! Say it isn’t
so! Yep. I
sure did. (Even a terminal perfectionist
does perfectly stupid things every now and then.)

Now, a
smarter girl would have drunk texted someone more appropriate. The possibilities are endless: a smarter girl
could have drunk texted a friend for a down and dirty booty call, or a friend
for emotional support, or her ex wife to belligerently blame her for letting the marriage
die, or someone she had dated not quite so recently. OR, a smarter girl would have left her
fucking iPhone at home where she wouldn’t have the opportunity to behave so
goddamned foolishly. But I’m not that
girl. Clearly.

Text
Message 2 (sent an
hour later when I realized what an idiot I was being but still very, very
tipsy): “Please disregard. This wasn’t meant for you.”

Text
Message 3 (sent a
few hours after the first text when I was at home, stone sober and had fully
realized what an idiot I had been): “I’m
embarrassed for sending you that text. It
was meant for someone else. I think of
and miss you often. I hope you’re well.”

That was
it. I think as far as doing dumb shit
goes, this was pretty minor, right? Hello…?
No? Ah, shit. Okay, you’re right, it was really dumb shit.

Not long
after my third text to The One That GotRan Away, I received a text back: “You
don’t know me. Delete my number. You’re being creepy.”

I was
gutted. I felt sick. I felt kicked in the stomach, stomped on my heart and punched in the ladybits. In my
entire life, I had never been accused of being “creepy”.It hit me so hard that I actually had to
self-reflect and consider the accusation.To this day, those words still rattle around in my brain when I date
someone new.I’m so cautious and careful
to avoid “creepy” behavior that that act in itself must appear creepy to anyone
new.There are no words to describe how
badly I was hurt.So I pulled myself
together with every ounce of
dignity I could possibly muster and replied:

“My apologies. Your number has been deleted. It will never happen again.”

Right
then and there, I deleted her number, every text message and email she ever
sent, and all of her contact information to ensure that it, in fact, NEVER
happened again. I clearly couldn’t trust
my drunken self. The next morning, I
called my old therapist and asked if she would be able to start seeing me
again.

Her
words were cruel. I know that. I know that they were meant to hurt and meant
to push me away. And it worked; I NEVER
contacted her again. This wounded cat
scampered off with her tail between her legs, limping and bleeding. That is not to say that I don’t accept my fair
share of responsibility. If I had had
any sense at all, I would have quit after two unanswered emails. I know now that I shouldn’t have sent the
text messages. Still, there’s no denying
that her words were delivered with the intention of wounding me and pushing me
away permanently and irrevocably. Yep,
that one knew how to deliver a blow straight to the heart.